


The World Against Us Cry

by xahra99



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Angst, Boats and Ships, Edward Kenway/Bartholomew Roberts, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical References, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Violence, Pirates, Rape/Non-con Elements, Swearing, The Royal Navy, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Violence, Welsh Character, rum sodomy and the lash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 01:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1207933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xahra99/pseuds/xahra99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Roberts takes advantage of Edward before he delivers him to Kingston. Written for the asscreed kink meme for the prompt 'Edward/Roberts noncon.' Contains scenes of non-consensual sex between adults, bad language, pretentious poetry and historical anachronisms. You have been warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World Against Us Cry

 

" _Well may the World against us Cry, for these our Deeds most Base,_

_For which alas! We now must Die; Death looks us in the Face_

_Which is no more than what's our due, for we so wicked were_

_As here shall be declar'd to you; Let Pirates then take Care_."

'Villainy Rewarded, or, A Pirate's Last Farewell to the World' -A Popular Ballad, 1696.

_West Indies, 1719._

 

"Have you ever seen the inside of a Jamaican prison, boy?" Roberts' face eclipsed the sun as he smirked down at Edward. "Have you?"

Edward refused to rise to Roberts's bait. He wrapped his arms around his belly to stem the flow of blood. The pain was not too bad as long as he did not breathe, but every gasp dragged him out towards the depths where the pain waited to tear at him like a shark.

There was an empty space on the horizon where the _Jackdaw_ 's sails had been. The brig's absence troubled Edward nearly as much as the ache in his gut.   He drew another breath and winced as the pain sank in its teeth once more. 

"You'll never make it to Kingston without the Navy catching you," he gasped.

Roberts smiled. His teeth gleamed white in his tanned face. "Don't count on it, boy. They want you more than they want me."

"Cut me free, then."Edward said "I'll pay you."

He judged the offer worth a try. He'd been more help than harm to Roberts. He'd trusted the man, even if he'd never liked him. But then he'd trusted Adéwalé too, and where had that got him? Nowhere good.

"What with?" Roberts asked. His smile was brighter than the gleaming grin on the skull he carried. "The treasure in the hold of your ship? The ship which has long since vanished over the horizon?"

"There's treasure in Inagua," Edward said. There had been more in Nassau, but whatever riches had remained in Nassau had long since been looted by the ships of His Majesty's Navy. "You can have that."

"I'd be a poor pirate indeed if I agreed to that trade. You haven't got a halfpenny to give old Charon to ferry you over the Styx."

"S' not true," Edward gasped. Sticky wetness seeped between his fingers.

"Is it not?" Robert set the skull aside. "Then it's a pity the Crown has deeper pockets than any pirate ever known. But the British won't want damaged goods." He knelt down in the sand beside Edward. "Let's have a look at you."

"Damn you, Roberts." Edward's hand went to his blade. "Leave me be, damn you."

"Don't fuss so." Roberts said. He braced one hand against Edward's shoulder and pushed him back into the sand.  Edward could do little more than curse despite his defiance.  He wanted nothing more than to curl around his wound and lie there, but Roberts would not go. He stripped Edward of his weapons methodically. He piled an arsenal upon the sand and examined Edward's hidden blades closely.  

"Those are pretty toys," he said."Where did you get them?"

Edward shrugged. The movement tugged at his wound unpleasantly, and he nearly bit straight through his lip.  "From a dead man," he said once he could speak, "and another, who soon will be."

"Really?" Roberts asked. "You'll be a corpse yourself before too long." He fitted the left gauntlet to his sleeve, where the leather sat strangely between lace and red damask. "Still, the blades look like their use would take some practice, and I have not the time." He unbuckled the blade and tossed it on the pile with the rest of Edward's weapons. "Nor the patience."

Roberts sliced through Edward's blood-soaked scarlet sash with one of Edward's own knives and deftly unbuckled the brigandine he wore below."Hold still." He cut up Edward's coat as smartly as Edward would have skinned an animal and peeled away the sodden shirt beneath.

Edward cursed and spat. He'd bitten his lip bloody by the time Roberts had examined the wound to his satisfaction, but the empty sockets of Roberts' crystal skull held more compassion than Roberts' eyes.

"A nasty wound," he said at last, "but not too deep."

"Leave me be." Edward heard –and hated-the pleading in his voice.

"No fear of that," said Roberts. "You're worth a warship, boy. That's coin you're bleeding out onto the beach. Still, you're a fortunate man- as am I, for that cut saved me the trouble of capturing you myself."

Edward thought himself a great deal of things at that moment, but none of them fortunate. He groaned. Roberts clapped a hand upon his shoulder, half-turned and shouted at his crew. "Fetch me the surgeon, knaves!"

The only reply Edward heard was the scream of the gulls overhead. Roberts nodded in satisfaction and turned back to Edward. "Don't worry," he said. "My surgeon is an honest fellow, and skilled. I hope you'll live, but damn me; if you must die, then he shall die along with you."

"I'm not worried 'bout ...the fucking surgeon."

"Speak up, boy." Roberts leant closer to Edward. If Edward could have moved a muscle he'd have opened Roberts' throat from ear to ear.  As it was, he could barely twitch a finger.

"I'm not worried 'bout the fucking...surgeon. I'm worried 'bout the foaming cur who calls hisself his Captain."

Robert's smile widened. He patted Edward's cheek, reached down, and closed his hand over the seeping wound in Edward's side. Blood welled between his fingers and stained his lace-edged cuffs. Edward made a sound halfway between a howl and yelp. He writhed, but Roberts pinned him easily.  

"Jesus, Roberts!"

 Roberts thrust Edward back upon the sand. He loosened a kerchief from his throat and used the rag to wipe his hands. "I never took you for a religious man, Kenway. But then you are Welsh, after all. So here's a thought. Of all the nations, why d'ye suppose the Welsh make such good pirates? A certain disregard for the rules; or a yen to make our fortune, or simply that after Wales a man can live in any place and like it?"

Edward groaned. Roberts tossed the rag aside. "Answer, boy."

"'Cause none of us know when to stop," spat Edward, "or how to hold our tongues."

"By God," Roberts said brightly, "I'd say that you were right.  Well done, boy." He jabbed at Edward's wound again. "Well done!"

"You're mad, Roberts. Or bewitch'd."

Roberts gave Edward a peculiar smile. His grin faded like fog as a man came along the beach to stand beside them. "Ah," he said. "Mr Davies. If you would be so kind?"

Davies looked like any other pirate, but his frown as he knelt down and pushed up his sleeves was serious as any Navy man's. His hands were scarred like a butcher's and scrupulously clean. He probed Edward's wound gently, and his frown deepened. "Aye, I see," he said. "Will need stitching, that."

Roberts clapped the surgeon across the shoulders. "Fetch your things, then," he said with a broad smile. "Will you work here or aboard the ship?"

"'Tis as clean here as anywhere," Davies said. He glanced at Edward. "Best we not move him right now. I'll fetch my kit."

"Good man," Roberts said. The surgeon bustled off. Roberts stood up and brushed sand from his knees.

"Damn you, Roberts."Edward spat. "I sailed with you. I helped you, damn your eyes."

"And you shall serve me yet," Roberts said. He nudged Edward with the toe of his boot, and agony reached up and swallowed Edward whole like a great whale.

The surgeon returned, carrying a chest. It must have been midday, for the sun was high and the palm trees' jagged leaves cast shadows like knives across Roberts' wine-red coat. Roberts and his surgeon knelt and rolled Edward up to face the sun. The sand rocked beneath him like the waves.

What followed was excruciating even by Edward's standards. The surgeon opened the wound and washed the cut with boiled seawater and alcohol before he stitched it shut with something that felt like burning wire but was probably rough thread. The surgeon's hands were gentler than Roberts-but then there were devils in Hell who were gentler than Roberts.  Edward passed out before the man was done. He remembered little enough of the journey to the _Royal Fortune_ and was grateful for that mercy. The lapse in his memory was one coin in a sea-chest full of sand: poor consolation.

Edward came round some time later with a headache that far outranked any hangover of his life. He heard boots stamping upon deck far above him, and the creaking of a large ship under fast sail. His eyelids were gummed shut, but once he rubbed his eyes and blinked he could just make out the dim shapes of boxes and barrels in the gloom. The cargo was piled high in a cavernous rectangular room with ribs like Jonah's whale and a ceiling that was just tall enough for Edward to stand up in. Wan light the colour of spiced rum seeped through cracks in the ceiling, and thin trickles of water leaked through crevices in the planks at his back.

He was in the hold of a large sailing ship, and as the only ship he'd seen since the Observatory had been Robert's flagship he had to guess that he was aboard the _Royal Fortune_. The unwelcome silhouettes of bars as thick around as Edward's wrist in front of him meant he was in her brig.

He raised his hands, and heard the clank of chains.

Edward pulled himself up to crouch again the hull. The hold, or as much of the hold that he could see through the gloom, was stuffed with cargo but not sailors. This meant that either Roberts had killed more of his crew upon the island than Edward had thought possible, or that Roberts had moved their berths to keep him isolated. Pirate ships had a murderous rate of attrition, and carried more men to compensate than Navy vessels of similar size. The hold should have been as full of sailors as an unwashed shirt was of lice. Where were they, and, more importantly, why had Roberts moved them?  

Edward tried to recall what he could of Roberts' flagship. The _Royal Fortune_ had sailed under the Spanish before he'd captured her for Roberts, a mistake the consequences of which were just beginning to dawn on him. He knew that the _Fortune_ was cursed slow to start, but swift once she got going. And he knew that she handled like a drunken pig, which meant that Roberts would have to take the deepwater shipping lanes to Kingston. He'd hunted those lanes himself. Maybe Roberts would be boarded by pirates-aye, there was a fine thought. 

He pulled upon his chains but found no purchase. The shackles were heavy and finely made of Spanish steel. He traced the links backwards from his wrists to the pin that fastened the irons to the hull. The pin was tight and deeply buried in wood as hard as iron. He had no chance of yanking it out barehanded. It would take a cannon blast to dislodge the thing, and if a cannonball passed through the hull he'd have bigger problems than his chains. The shackles were opened by a small keyhole on the right side near the large bone of the wrist. The lock could be picked only if he broke both his wrists first, and Edward was a terrible locksmith at the best of times.

So. He was still alive, but chained and with little prospect of escaping the brig without help before Roberts delivered him to Kingston. They'd left his shirt and breeches, though his feet were bare, and they'd stripped him of his belt and taken the leather thong that tied his hair. 

Edward was sure that he had been in worse situations, but he couldn't think of any.

The only bright side to this storm was that the wound in his side felt much improved. The fish that nibbled at Edward's flesh were minnows instead of sharks. He felt nearly his own self again. Roberts' surgeon had done a fine job, but Edward might still wish he hadn't.

Most pirates had a strong constitution- men who did not thrive were not pirates for long. In a climate where fevers killed most men within six months of their arrival merely continued survival was considered an unqualified success, and the Navy hanged more pirates than they spared. Edward had survived many wounds that would have killed a weaker man. His body would doubtless continue stubbornly trying to heal itself right up until they tied the noose around his neck.

A song came unbidden to his mind. Words formed between the rhythm of boots on the planks above his head and the gentle monotone of the waves along the hull. The song had been written by a man who was no pirate, but it was a catchy bit of doggerel all the same.

_It's better to swim in the sea below,_

_Than to swing in the air and feed the crow,_

_Says jolly Ned Teach of Bristol_

Jesus, he wished Thatch was here. Thatch, or Adéwalé, or even Mary, though she'd scold him something awful. But he was all alone, and his horizons had narrowed to the bars of a cage.

After a while Edward heard the scuff of boots and saw a faint glow of light at the opposite end of the hold. He scrambled to his feet and shouted "Over here!" like a shipwrecked sailor calling to a vessel.

The light came closer. Its path was not an easy one- Roberts' hold was stuffed with cargo, much of it in no sort of order-but by the time it reached the brig the light resolved itself into a lantern carried by a surly pirate who, Edward was glad to see, was not Roberts. The pirate held the lantern high in his right hand and carried in his left a handful of ship's biscuit, an orange and a wooden cup of water. When he reached the cage he bent down and shoved the meal beneath the bars towards Edward.

"Slide the cup back under when you're done," he said. "Or you'll have to take your next drink from the floor."

Edward reached out and took the food. "Wait a moment," he said, as the pirate turned away. "You're one of Roberts' crew?"

"What else would I be?"

Edward had to admit it was a fair point. "Then you know Roberts?"

"Well as any man, I guess."

"He a good captain?"

The pirate glanced away as if he feared to meet Edward's eyes. "I ain't speaking ill of him," he said.

"So he isn't a good captain," Edward said. He picked up the ship's biscuit and took a careful bite.

"I won't speak against him. Roberts has ways of knowing what's in a man's heart."

Edward didn't doubt it. He had never believed in magic, but what he had seen in the Observatory was closer to witchcraft than anything he had set eyes upon before. "I'm not asking you to curse the man," he said. "But have you ever considered life upon another ship?"

"What choice do I have?"

Edward jabbed a thumb at his own chest. "I have a ship."

The pirate's eyes were scornful. "No, you don't," he said.

"Still do," Edward said stubbornly. "She's out there on the main, and a more beautiful ship you could never hope to see. If you could help me to a boat, I'd take you with me. You could sail on my crew. There'll be glory, gold and rum. Prizes to spare."

The pirate sucked his teeth. "Way I see it," he said slowly, "you're stuck fast, and headed for the gallows. A man'd have to be a fool to throw in his lot with you."

"True." Edward admitted. "But the fool who did could wind up a very rich man."

"Or he could be dead," the pirate said.

"There is that," Edward confessed. "'But what have you to lose? Roberts is a hard captain. I heard he hates to gamble, and he's miserly with shares."

The pirate leaned in closer, as if Roberts could be listening even here. "That he is," he whispered.

Edward leant back against the hull and dug a thumbnail into the thick rind of the orange. "Look," he said as the aromatic oil burst from the rind and made the brig for a moment a sweeter smelling place. "What's your name?"

"Williams," the pirate said. "William Williams. Of the _Willing Mind_ , from Swansea."

"Really?" Edward said with feigned surprise. "Jesus, half of fucking Swansea is afloat. It's a wonder there's any Welshmen left."

"That's the truth," Williams confessed. He took a step closer to the bars. 

"Well, Williams," Edward said. "It's clear that you're a clever man." He split the fruit slowly into segments, because a man eating dinner at his ease was a great deal less threatening than a man crouched ready to spring."It's time to let you in on the real prize."

"What prize?"

"D'ye know of the treasure hidden in the Observatory?"

Williams paused. He reached up to rub at his heavy brass hoop earring. "Roberts never told us of no treasure," he said, shaking his head so that the trinket flashed cheaply in the lamplight.

 "Great piles of the stuff," Edward confirmed. "I've been there and seen the loot m'self. Plenty there for all." He paused for a moment to let the thought sink in. "There's a king's ransom on that island."

"Really?" asked Williams.

Edward nodded. He ate a slice of orange and peeled off a second piece. "I thought Roberts meant to split the gold between you all," he said through a mouthful of sweet pulp."Though I'm sure he's saving it for later."

The pirate looked doubtful. "Roberts never breathed a word of gold," he said.

"He's likely planning to keep the hoard all for himself." Edward said. "Though a clever man might find a way to get a handful of that treasure." 

Williams glanced around uncertainly. "I'm listening."

"Your Captain Roberts and I are the only men who know the place that treasure's buried," Edward said, "and I'm the only man who can reach it without dyin'. Trouble is that information's no use to me as I am." He put down the orange and held up his shackles. "See? So I propose a simple trade. You help me get off this boat and I'll take you with me. If you do, half of the treasure is yours."

"Really? Half?"

"Ask yourself this," Edward purred. "What's most valuable to me, right at this moment-my freedom, or my fortune? If you don't help me I'll be hanged, and you can be sure I'll tell nobody the secret 'fore I take the drop. Once I die, all that gold is left in Roberts' hands. And correct me if I'm wrong, but your captain doesn't seem a sharing man." He shrugged. "It's your choice."

Williams rubbed his chin. "I don't know," he said cautiously. "I'd be done for if I was found out." 

"You could be a very rich man," said Edward.

"You haven't told this to the other crew?"

"I've been down here the whole time," Edward said. "You're the only one I've seen."

Williams chewed his lip. "What should I do?" he asked.

Edward resisted the urge to cry 'let me out'. "Don't breathe a word of this to anyone," he said. He'd hooked his fish, but the hook was fragile, and the line might break at any time. "Wait until the middle watch at midnight. The middle watch. Set me free, and lower the rowboat from the side. Has it a sail?"

Williams nodded. "Yes. Though it's a small one."

"Don't worry." Edward took a deep drink. The water wasn't nearly as good as the orange had been, but neither was it the putrid scum that passed as refreshment on long voyages. "If we can make it out of sight they'll never know what way we've gone."

He decided not to mention that he had no idea where the hell they were right now, but he could come to that later. It was better to be a free man on a small ship than a prisoner on Roberts' great galleon. If Edward was lucky, they'd reach the boat, and if he was even luckier they'd find land.

He spat on his hand and held it out. "Is it a deal, mate?"

Williams spat onto his own palm. "Half," he said, and reached through the bars to shake Edward's hand.

Edward nodded. "Half of whatever gold we find," he said "Middle watch, remember. Things'll be quiet then."  

"Aye," Williams said. He reached up again to rub his earring. "Middle watch." He nodded to Edward and turned away, his step a little jauntier than it had been when he'd arrived.

"Trim your sails right," Edward called after him, "and you'll be wearing gold and diamonds in your ears, 'stead of brass."

If Williams did reply, Edward never heard him. His lantern retreated steadily. The light flashed like a distant star as the pirate retraced his steps and vanished behind a pile of cargo.

Edward settled back to wait.

The only difference between night and day within the brig was a faint lightening of the gloom that shrouded the hold. Fortunately Roberts kept Navy hours, with a bell struck every half hour of a four hour watch. The chimes let Edward mark the passing of the day. The light that filtered through the boards was the palest ghost of Caribbean sunshine, but it helped him tell night from morning if nothing more.

He spent the next two full watches planning his escape and tracing the crude drawings of ships carved upon the hull by the Spanish sailors who'd suffered in the brig before him. The drawings were crude, but their rigging was so detailed Edward knew they were drawings of ships the artists had once known. There was some writing in the Spanish tongue, which Edward read but could not understand. Adéwalé, who swam through languages like a fish through water, could have translated, but Adéwalé was leagues away at the helm of Edward's ship.

The light that trickled through the planks was the colour of pale amber when the lantern reappeared.  Edward knew it was far too early for the light to be Williams returning. He lifted his chains and stood as a tall figure materialised through the gloom. He knew Roberts from his stride even before he saw the gleam of candlelight on gaudy red damask.

Roberts held a lantern in one hand and a blue and white china teacup in the other. He sipped tea daintily and gazed down at Edward through the bars as if he was an animal in the King's menagerie. "Hello, boy," he said, "How'd you like your new quarters?"

Edward leaned back against the hull. The bars cast long shadows on the planks in the flickering candlelight as the carvings of long-dead Spanish sailors cut into his back. "Very well, but the mattress is lumpy, and the serving maids won't come, no matter how I call 'em."

"It's my understanding that you've been a poor guest," said Roberts. He drew something small from his pocket and tossed it to Edward, who caught the bauble one-handed. Williams' brass earring shone like an errant spark of sunshine in his palm.

"Now I won't have you speaking to my crew," Roberts said. "D'ye hear?"

Edward closed his hand over the jewel. "What'd you do, Roberts?"

"Williams broke the code," Roberts said with a grin."Desertion is punished by death or marooning. There are no islands 'round these parts, so death had to do. What'd you promise him, boy?"

Edward shrugged. "'Twas easy enough. You're not a popular commander, Roberts. Might be you want to work on that."

"I keep a tight ship, and make those fear who do not love me," Roberts said, "Might be you need to work on that. Your crew ran because they did not fear you more than my _Royal Fortune_ and her guns."

"The _Jackdaw_ 's fast," Edward said, "but your _Fortune_ 's too well armed. They might as well have fought a castle."

Roberts bent and lowered cup and lantern to the floor. "You put your faith in them if nothing else," he said. "What's your secret, boy? Kidd's smarter. Vane's fiercer, Rackham luckier, and Teach was far more fearsome. Yet your men trust you. Why?"

"Maybe it's because I'm a decent man and not a damn dirty scab like you."

Roberts laughed. "Look at where your folly's led," he said. "You're sailing straight for Execution Dock."

He drew a chain from the collar of his shirt. A key hung upon the chain like a pendant, and Roberts fit the key to the lock. The lock was rusty and did not turn easily. Roberts swore and persevered, and the door creaked open with a squeal of long-neglected hinges.

A wide unbroken lane of lantern light led from Edward to the door. He tensed and tried to hide it. The chains that fastened him to the hull were not long enough to allow him to the opening, but once inside the brig Roberts might be tempted to move closer and the key he held might unfasten Edward's shackles. Edward watched Roberts through half-lidded eyes and wondered if he could coax him closer.

"Why're you here, Roberts?" he asked.

 "I never thanked you for clearing the jungle," Roberts said. He stepped through the brig's door. "I'll bet the guardians never saw you coming."

"Let me go," Edward said, "if you're that grateful."

Roberts smiled. "I think not."

"You'd never face me were I free."

"Which is why you stay here chained," Roberts said. "How's that wound, boy?"

"I'll live,"" Edward said.

"For a while, anyway." Roberts said pleasantly. The key dangled around his neck and tangled with his jewels as he walked closer. He was well within Edward's reach now, and closing. "I worried you might not survive to claim the bounty. Thankfully for both of us, you have a healthy constitution."

Edward braced his hands upon the hull. "Go to Hell, Roberts," he said.

" _Why, this is Hell_ ," Roberts said. " _Nor am I out of it_.  I don't suppose a rover like you knows your Marlowe, boy, but-"

Edward leapt.

He got in one good blow with his shackles against Roberts' shoulder before Roberts slammed his hand down upon Edward's side and he discovered that the wound he had sustained at the Observatory hadn't healed half as well as he had thought. He reeled back against the hull. Roberts took him by the throat and knocked him down onto the deck.

"I don't want to kill you," he said. "You're worth far more to me alive. But if you must continue to test my good nature...well, there comes a time in all men's lives when one must weigh the cost of an act against the pleasure it gives one." He kicked Edward in the ribs and knelt down beside him."You speak the truth. Your wound is healing nicely, though it won't if you continue to provoke me. Every action has consequences. It's time you learnt that."

" _Cay dy oen as dos is ffwcio dy gat hi fyny'r pen ol_." Edward rarely used Welsh, because there was no point in wasting a perfectly good curse on a man who couldn't understand it, but there was a time for everything.

"Watch your mouth," Roberts said pleasantly. "Or I'll find another use for it." His hand moved down to caress the crown tattooed on Edward's shoulder, and Edward felt Roberts' cock stiffen against his hip. He pushed away, but his struggles only seemed to excite the man. He leant in to trace the French sabre-slash on Edward's cheek. Edward jerked back, and Roberts smiled. 

"You're a fucking pervert and a nance, Roberts."

"Maybe," Roberts said silkily. But I'm the one still standing on the deck of my own ship. You are beneath me, boy, in every way." His breath quickened as he shifted. "And you of all men should know that pirates are not known for passing up treasure-wherever they find it."

Edward leaned back, his feet digging for purchase on the planks as Roberts' cock hardened."You won't find it here."

"I'll be the judge of tha-"

Edward reached up and slammed his head forwards into Roberts' face. The top of his skull met Roberts' nose sharply. Roberts reeled back and clapped his hands to his face, and Edward dived for the key at Roberts' throat.

He almost had it. But Roberts stumbled back so Edward's hands passed within a finger's width of the chain before his shackles caught him short. He came to an unceremonious halt and watched as Roberts staggered away. His hat had fallen from his head in the struggle. Edward picked the tricorn up and tossed it after him. 

"Stay out," he said.

Roberts bent down to pick up his hat. His foot came down heavily on the china teacup.  Porcelain shattered, and Edward grinned.

Roberts gazed down at the broken fragments with mild dismay. He replaced his hat and unknotted a silk handkerchief from his neck to serve as a bandage. "Don't cross me, boy," he said thickly as he pressed the kerchief to his face. "I'd have you flogged, but it'd be a shame to spoil those fine tattoos."

"And I'd have had that key if you'd been one second slower," Edward said.

"Shame you weren't, then." Roberts wiped the blood from his face and tossed the handkerchief to the floor. He held the key up to the light and tucked it away within his shirt. "More shame you did not yield to my sport."

"Go to Hell, Roberts. You come in here again, I'll kill you."

It wasn't an idle threat, and Roberts knew it. "As you wish, boy," he said, retrieving his lantern and kicking the china out of Edward's reach. "As you wish."

Edward walked to the very limit of his chains and pissed on Roberts' cotton.

Four watches passed. The dim light waned, but the hold grew no cooler.  At first confinement was Edward's main concern. Captivity was tiresome to a man who had made freedom his profession. He whistled every shanty he knew to pass the time.  He made his hands bloody trying to slip them through the manacles and tried and failed to work the staple free. He thought to fashion himself a wooden dagger from the cup Williams had brought, but it must have rolled from Edward's reach during his fight with Roberts.

Thirst began to torture him. When the bell rang for the fifth watch and nobody brought water, Edward struck his shackles on the hull.

"Oy!" he called. "I need water!"

Nobody came. The crew wasn't listening or didn't care, though Edward knew that the men bunked in the lower decks must be losing sleep. When his piss was the colour of dark ale he cupped his hands against the leaking hull to drink, but got no water save for brine. By then he no longer had enough moisture in his mouth to whistle tunes. He tried to sleep, but couldn't. He'd seen the bodies of shipwrecked sailors who had opened their veins and drunk their own blood to quench their thirst, but he'd wither and die like an old stick before he'd give Roberts that satisfaction.

"Roberts!" he called. "I'm going to die down here, Roberts. What about your money then?"

Roberts never came. Edward's skin cracked and he stopped pissing entirely. He slept rarely and dreamed constantly of water. At first he thought the lantern was another dream. When it drew closer to the bars, he knew it wasn't.

"Hello, boy," said Roberts.

"Water," Edward said. His lips split as he spoke.  

Roberts drew closer. He produced a small cup and pushed it under the bars without bothering to unlock the brig first. Dark liquid slopped from the rim of the cup and soaked into the boards. Edward took the cup and cradled it in his hands with as much care as if it held diamonds. 

"A toast!" Roberts called. He lowered his lantern and produced a second cup, which he knocked back without ceremony. "To our ships, our choice, and the bloody Spanish!"

Edward tipped back his head and tossed the liquor back without thinking. He had finished the cup by the time the first word had left Roberts' lips. The drink was strong and foul-tasting and coated his teeth and tongue with a bitter flavour, but it was better by far than dying of thirst.  

Roberts smiled. "Sweet dreams, Kenway."

Edward wiped his mouth. "What was that?" he asked. "Rum?"

Roberts smiled. "Mostly," he said.

Edward's stomach lurched. He dropped the cup and sank down against the hull. "Poison?"

Roberts traced a finger over the bars. "Not exactly," he said.

Edward gagged and spat. He did not know what Roberts had fed him, but he knew he wanted no part of it. He paced and thrust his fingers down his throat, hoping to vomit, but his body stubbornly refused to rid itself of the liquid. "Curse you, Roberts."

Roberts took a pace away from the bars and rested hip-shot upon a bale of cotton. His smile was tranquil. "Many have," he said. 

Edward turned away and thumped the hull, though he would rather have thumped Roberts. The blow did nothing more than skin his knuckles. The deck rolled beneath him like a roaring gale and he sat down heavily. 

"You're fortunate that I've time to spend with you," Roberts said from shores far distant. "It's better to be commander than a common man, but commanding is demanding work."

Edward could hardly hear. The warm sea rushed past outside the Royal Fortune's sides and filled his ears with the sound of flowing water. The sound seeped inside the hold and the sea came with it. Waves lapped Edward's ankles. The tide rose slowly to his chest and then his head as he went under. He sank to the depths through a powder-dark ocean.

Roberts unlocked the door of the brig and stepped inside. His head was a shark's head. The silver key gleamed tantalisingly around his throat, though Edward could not move to grasp it. Roberts' eyes were flat shark's eyes, black and pitiless. When Edward did not move he bent down and brought the lantern close by Edward's face. The light dragged Edward to the surface, and he moaned.

Roberts smiled though serrated teeth. "Very good," he said. He dipped his hands deep within the water and unlocked Edward's chains. Patiently he freed Edward from his shackles and helped him to stand.

Edward had spent days dreaming of freedom, but the brig seemed a sanctuary compared to whatever Roberts planned. He tried to twist free and escape, but it was a clumsy effort hardly worthy of the name. Roberts caught him easily. Edward grabbed for Roberts' coat and got a handful of brass buttons for his pains. Roberts lashed out, and the buttons spilled from Edward's hands like fool's gold as he fell.

The blow took what little fight the drug had left him. Roberts dragged him through the door into the cargo hold and pressed him facedown to a bale of sugar. Edward heard the scrape of steel as Roberts drew a knife. Then he felt the press of a blade against his spine.

He had time only to think _Christ, he'll fillet me like a fish_ , before Roberts slit his shirt up the back and pulled the remains of the sweat-stained cotton over Edward's head. Sacking rasped against his cheek. Roberts was a leaden weight against his back. Hard hands knotted in his hair as he felt Roberts' cock stiffen, and any lingering doubts about what Roberts intended vanished.

_Jesus._

"Think of it as prison practice," Roberts whispered against Edward's throat. "Your arse'll be as wide as a cannon mouth after a few months."

Edward swore and bucked, and Roberts' cock grew harder. He ground himself against Edward's arse. "Hold still," he gasped, "and let me board you. You know what happens to crews who fight."

Edward thrashed like a shark. He worked his hands under him and tried to pull away. His struggles brought him up hard against Roberts, who laughed. "I didn't think you'd be so keen," he said, pressing Edward down with a hand between his shoulder-blades. His free hand traced the outline of the panthers inked on Edward's back. "Your tattoos look even finer from this vantage."

His breath came fast as he pushed Edward's breeches down. Edward shivered despite the humid air of the hold. His shirt was rags around his wrists and his breeches kissed his ankles. It felt worse than being naked.

Roberts' breath hissed between his teeth. "That view's far better," he said thickly. He paused for a moment to stroke himself hard. The strings of pearls and the diamond pendant Roberts hadn't bothered to remove brushed across Edward's back.  He could smell the reek of Roberts' sweat under a thick layer of perfume. The anticipation was worse than Roberts' touch-

He felt teeth in the back of his neck as Roberts mounted him. His hands curled into fists.

"Christ," Roberts grunted. "You're tight." He pulled out and thrust again, and Edward groaned into the sacking. "I thought you well-used to this. I'd heard that you and Kidd were good companions."

In a different situation, Edward would have laughed. "Y' have no idea how wrong y're," he slurred.

"No matter," Roberts panted. "I'd thought you used to sodomy." His thrusts came faster now, working up a rhythm. "If-ah-if you're not, so much the better." His right hand pressed upon Edward's flank as he shoved, fingers spanning the half-healed wound, and Edward came adrift on waves of pain.

When he floated back Roberts was still talking. Liked the sound of his own voice, did Roberts. Man had stamina.

"- wish you could see yourself. You'd give a corpse a cockstand." He peered down at Edward and smiled. "D'ye hear me, boy?" He took hold of Edward's hair; dragged his head back; slapped his cheek. "That's better. Stay with me."

"Hope you burn in Hell."

"That fire's not half as hot as you," Roberts said, grunting as he sheathed himself tight.  He reached down and wrapped his hand round Edward's cock. He fucked him slowly but stroked fast, and he had Edward from half mast to full sail within moments, stroking 'til the tip of Edward's cock nudged his belly. Warmth pooled in his groin as Roberts fucked surrender out of him.

"Jesus!"

Roberts fucked shallowly and slowly, nearly sliding free with each stroke. Now he leaned over Edward and heaved it deep and fast. Edward shuddered. He'd seen hanged men with hard-ons as they danced their last jig. Now he knew how they felt. The tide was rising, and dragged him with it. It was impossible to resist.

Robert's breath caught. "You're lovely down below, boy." His hand tightened. "Sing me a shanty."

Edward would have howled, but his face was pressed into the cloth. He spent helplessly in Roberts' hand. Roberts groaned. He pulled out and thrust again, grunted, jerked and came. "Sweet Christ!"

His grip loosened. Edward slid down the bale onto his knees and dragged his breeches up to cover himself. The hold stank of seed and sweat and shame. He meant to crawl away like a dying cur; to lose himself in the maze of cargo and lick his wounds, but Roberts took hold of his hair and dragged him close. His red brocade coat gaped open, giving Edward a close view of his cock.

"I warn you," Edward said in a voice that was meant to be defiant but which was more of a mumble, "I bite like a fucking shark."

Roberts smiled. "Then I'll save that joy for later," he said, and shoved Edward aside. Edward sprawled upon the deck. The ribs of the hold arched above his head like the belly of a dark whale. The drug loosened its grip and he rolled aside and vomited black bile onto the planks.

Roberts fastened his breeches and fussed at his hair. When he had finished his preening he strolled across the deck to Edward and bent down to offer him a hand. When Edward did not take it Roberts wrapped an arm around his shoulders and hauled him to his feet.

"'Twas fortune delivered you into my hands, boy," he said affably as he guided Edward back towards the brig. "You've proved a better prize than I first thought." He pushed him down against the hull and fastened the manacles around his wrists. "Sit down, there, 'case you find some misfortune."

"Thought I'd found it already," Edward mumbled.

"There's always more," Roberts said.  He left the brig, humming a tune, and returned with a tall earthenware jar. "Take a sip, boy. You'll be parched."

He held the jug to Edward's mouth. Edward meant to spit the liquid back at Roberts, but he forgot all his intentions as soon as the water touched his lips. The drink felt like a reward, but it didn't matter. He could have drunk the ocean.

"Here's a health to the queen and a lasting peace," sang Roberts. He stroked Edward's hair. " _Till faction end, let wealth increase. Come, let fuck while we have breath.  For there's no fucking after death-_ "

 Edward wiped his mouth and felt the dark tide recede further. It left him washed up like flotsam, battered and bruised. He had nothing left, not even his ship. But he had his wits, and his Assassin's training, and maybe that would be enough. He lowered the jug and placed it carefully against the hull so that it would not spill.

" _And he that will this health deny_ ," Roberts sang, " _down among the dead men let him_ -"

Edward leapt; hands outstretched for Roberts' throat. He had no plan beyond a strong desire to strangle the prick with his own pearls, and it didn't work anyway. Roberts drew back with a glare that was more intrigued than alarmed.

"There's fight within you yet, eh?" he said, retreating beyond the reach of Edward's chains.

Edward lurched to his feet, taking care not to let Roberts see how much it cost him. "Surprised, Roberts? I was born poor. I've been screwed by men who thought themselves my better since the day I was born."

"You'd better watch your mouth, boy," Roberts said. "You're just a peasant, yet you think yourself my equal.  You'll find yourself in trouble that way."

"I'm your better," Edward said. "Never took anyone unwilling. Never had to. While you're one of those who like to take their pleasure with those who can't deny it. What's wrong, Roberts? Cabin boy's arse got too sore, has it?"

Roberts scowled. "How's your arse feeling?" he asked sweetly.

"Fine. But then my little finger's bigger than that thing you call a cock."

Roberts scowl deepened. Edward wondered if he had pushed him too far. He'd known other men who liked to force themselves on others unwilling. It usually ended badly, one way or another. They went too far and were strung up, or else one of their victims found a knife and used it. "I find it hard to believe you enjoyed being used as my wife."

 "Come in here again and I'll return the favour." He borrowed one of Vane's favourite curses. "Else I'll cut your throat and fuck the hole."

"Watch that tongue," Roberts said, "or I'll cut it out."

"And lose your bounty? I've seen men die of that. How great is the prize? I hope it's larger than your prick."

"Large enough to stay my hand," Roberts said. "For now. You best think twice 'bout crossing me, boy."

"I won't think once," Edward said. "I told you that I'd kill you, Roberts. I meant it. You think I'm joking, ask du Casse and his friends. Course, you'll have to dig 'em up to do it, but that shouldn't take you long."

"You're in no position to issue threats," said Roberts. He peered at Edward through the bars as if he hoped to dig beneath his defiance to find the truth.  "Though I'll warn you that I'm pistol proof."

"Fine with me," said Edward. "I've got ways. Just makes you more of a challenge, that's all."

Roberts drew the key from his neck and locked the brig door behind him. "You're a fool, boy," he said as he tucked the key into the tangle of pearls around his throat. "You've no idea who you're dealing with."

"Aye, I do. A man who'd sell out his mates to make his own fortune. Go scratch, Roberts. I've got no time for you."

"Your days indeed are numbered," Roberts said. "'Tis a pity, for the Crown won't 'preciate you half as well as I do, but can't be helped." He turned and lifted the lantern. "Greet Thatch for me in Hell, won't you?"

"Won't have to," said Edward. "You'll see him 'fore I do."

"We shall see, boy," Roberts said. He withdrew, and Edward tracked his passage by the progress of the candlelight. "We shall see."

Edward kept his feet until the light had vanished. He dared not show Roberts how empty his threats were. When he was sure the man has gone he let the weight of his chains carry him down to the deck. The boards felt as soft as sand against his spine after Roberts' rough attentions. He felt as ragged as old sails after a cannon-battle, and he was battered and more bruised than he liked to admit. It was enough to make him glad he'd never forced a woman.

"I've been in worse situations," he said half to himself, but the only answer was the heavy tread of sailors on the planks above his head.  

He reminded himself that there was more to life than the _Royal Fortune_ 's hold; that outside these wooden walls other pirates sailed the Spanish seas. Mary was still free. Adéwalé, Anne, Vane and even Rackham sailed their ships across the main. Edward swore he'd see the _Jackdaw_ again if it killed him. And if Roberts came again a-knocking-then he'd deal with him when that moment came.

His outstretched hand touched the curved side of the jug, and he rolled to his elbow and got up on his knees.  He drank half of what remained, and then he stripped and used the rest of the water to wash the smell of Roberts from his skin.

When he was done he tilted the jug and let the last drops dribble onto his tongue. Then he smashed the vessel on the planks.  He searched through the fragments until he found one the size and shape of a dagger, and wrapped the wreck of his shirt around the shard for a hilt.

He was the only man aside from Roberts who knew the true location of the Observatory, and likely the only man who could reach the building without dying. Aboard the Royal Fortune, that information was a liability. The Templars in Kingston would want that information, and as long as there was a chance of it they would not let Edward hang.  But the British Navy and the Royal African Company would hang him for sure, and Edward was not sure which organisation held the greater power.   

He used the piece of pottery to gouge at the hasp that pinned his shackles to the hull. It barely made a mark. Kingston might well be a safer haven than the hold of Roberts' ship, but it might be certain death, and he wouldn't know that until after he'd arrived. He preferred not to hazard his life on the question. There was little he could do to fight off the Navy if they decided to hang him before the Templars could reach him. And if he hadn't wanted to better his situation, he'd still be in England.

The barest scratches marked the plank by dawn, and Edward was exhausted. He hid the shards as best he could in the darkest corner of the brig, and settled down to sleep, using his arm as a pillow. There was nothing more that he could do. He'd trusted to the stars to steer him true before, and they'd always done him right. He'd have to wait and see.

He slept restlessly, and dreamed of sails on the horizon.

**Author's Note:**

> Assassin's Creed does not belong to me. I do not in any way condone non-consensual sex, piracy, sodomy, or rape. Neither do I condone foul language or bad pirate related puns.
> 
> Mensuramjr, this is not the happy pirate slash fic I promised you. That's about half way done, and will be posted soon, I promise. 
> 
> As for the fic:
> 
> Descriptions of the Royal Fortune and its hold are taken from vague memories of a tall ship I once visited in Amsterdam and a small amount of Internet research. So it's probably wrong and if it is then I'm sorry, but not as sorry as I am for placing Edward in this situation in the first place.
> 
> The ballad that begins: "It's better to swim in the sea below-" is an eighteenth-century English song about the death of Blackbeard, but I can't recall where I got it from. Notes say it's from the popular ballad 'The Downfall of Piracy' by Benjamin Franklin, but I don't think it is.
> 
> A Navy vessel has four hours to a watch, with eight half-hour bells to mark the time. Roberts's ship was supposed to be strict, though I'm not sure whether pirates would have used that system. It's really just a convenient way to mark the time.
> 
> "Why, this is Hell, nor am I out of it." From Christopher Marlowe's play Faust. Roberts is supposed to have been an educated man.  
> Cay dy oen as dos is ffwcio dy gat hi fyny'r pen ol: Welsh for 'Shut your mouth and go fuck your cat up the arse.'
> 
> The pirate toast 'To our ships, our choice, and the bloody Spanish' is attributed to another famous pirate, Henry Morgan.
> 
> The song that Roberts sings that begins "Here's a health to the queen and a lasting peace' is 'Down among the Dead Men', a popular ballad of the time (without the swearing), it's also the song that Vane sings at the end.
> 
> ***
> 
> Resources (piracy from one person is plagiarism, piracy from many is research)
> 
> A General History of the Robberies and Murders of the Most Notorious Pyrates, by Captain Charles Johnson.
> 
> A Worldwide Illustrated History of Pirates: Terror on the high seas: from the Caribbean to the South China Sea. Edited by David Cordingly
> 
> Pirate hunter of the Caribbean: the adventurous life of Captain Woodes Roberts, by David Cordingly 
> 
> The Life and Strange Surprising Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, by Daniel Defoe.
> 
> The Republic of Pirates: being the true and surprising story of the Caribbean pirates and the man who brought them down, by Colin Woodard.
> 
> Treasure Island: RL Stevenson
> 
> The Sugar Barons: Matthew Parker


End file.
